


Red Stars

by Destiny_Apocalypse



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Breastplay, Confident Solas, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-03 22:57:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2891195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destiny_Apocalypse/pseuds/Destiny_Apocalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lavellan calls bullshit on one of Iron Bull's stories. Solas can't help if proving her wrong ends up being an enjoyable side benefit, now can he?</p><p>kmeme fill</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Stars

**Author's Note:**

> A cleaned up kmeme fill. Solas lays worship to the Inquisitor's breasts. Barely a plot to be found here. 
> 
> I've used a more generic Lavellan here, for reasons.

The conversation at camp was becoming quite bawdier than Inquisitor Lavellan was accustomed to, though she supposed some of the blame lay with bringing both Varric and the Iron Bull along to close some of the rifts opening up in the Hinterlands, as well as the single bottle of Orlesian liqueur she had stumbled across earlier that day. A bottle of Carnal, 8:69 Blessed to be precise; a drink that Iron Bull was _intimately_ familiar with as well as it’s supposed sensation enhancement powers, and him and Varric had been passing it back and forth for the past hour. It wasn't long before he regaled them with a tale involving some buxom (red-headed, probably) and open minded Orlesian noble he’d conquered at some point who’d introduced him to the bottle. 

Varric listened intently, no doubt committing details to memory to use in a future novel. In fact; after a few moments he produced a notepad and quill to scratch notes on. Solas sat on the edge of camp, seemingly busy with mending the wraps on his staff handle, but the light smirk that played on his lips was not hidden as well as he thought. Lavellan herself just tried not to look too scandalized at the sordid details; her Dalish upbringing left her feeling rather prudish in comparison to some of her companions. The talk didn’t make her uncomfortable, but she felt ill-prepared to join into dialogue such as this when confronted with her complete lack of experience in such matters. It was better to just let Bull ramble on about these things. 

“I’m telling you, she had some great tits,” the Qunari said wistfully, holding his hands up in grabbing motion. “Big and heavy, like melons.” 

“Oh, melons! That’s perfect.” Varric’s pen made scratching sounds on the paper, and Iron Bull slapped his knee in amusement. “What size melons are we talking about? Cantaloupes or watermelons?”

“Melons from the trees of Par Vollen as big as your head, dwarf,” Iron Bull roared in laughter. “And so…so sensitive. She couldn’t get enough of me touching them after having half a glass of this stuff. I had her cumming in no time with only my mouth on her tits. Then she tied me down and-” 

“That’s absurd,” Lavellan couldn’t help but interrupt. “You can’t…not from-“ She broke off when the other males in camp all turned to stare at her curiously. She suddenly felt like a hole was being burned into the back of her head from the elf's gaze behind her, his interest focused on her like a beacon. 

A wide smile spread across the Qunari’s face. He shook the half empty bottle in her direction; the liqueur sloshing inside. “Have a taste, boss. You’ll never know until you try.” His eyes flickered knowingly towards Solas as he thrust the bottle into her hands. Her face reddened as her hands ran over the suggestive peach shape carved into the bottle. 

“I’ll pass,” she declared in what she hoped was a light tone, setting the bottle to the side. Iron Bull shrugged in response. A pregnant silence stretched between all three of them, and Lavellan shifted awkwardly, still refusing to turn to look back at Solas. 

“Did I ever tell you guys about Kirkwall’s guard captain trying to court a man with copper marigolds?” Varric broke in, changing topic as deftly as a man who knows how to drive a conversation. He launched into the tale and Lavellan flashed him a grateful smile, settling back against a log to listen to the storyteller speak. 

A few hours later and the fire dwindled into dim embers, and she watched the others retire into their respective tents for the night. Feeling too wound up to sleep now, she gathered her staff with all the quiet grace of a Dalish hunter and set away from the camp, searching out a quiet spot to gather her thoughts. A nearby astrarium on a rocky overhang gave an excellent view of the Hinterlands, and she lay down on the grass to stare up at the night sky. The braying of druffalo sounded very similar to that of halla, and if she closed her eyes she could almost imagine herself back among her clan. 

A twig snapped behind her and her eyes flew open, reaching instinctively for her staff laying next to her. She half rolled onto her feet before Solas emerged from the bushes, looking uncharacteristically sheepish at being caught by her. 

“I should know better than to try and sneak up on a Dalish,” He spread his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “I hope I am not intruding, Lethallan.”

“You are no intruder.” Lavellan set her staff down, sitting back down on the grass to face the night sky. He settled down next to her, joining her in the view of the night sky. After a few moments he reached out to lace her hand in his own, sending a small thrill of satisfaction down her spine at the rare sign of affection. She let her hip brush against his, enjoying their close contact. 

“I hope you were not too uncomfortable with the topic of conversation tonight.” His eyes turned towards her, bright in the moonlight. 

Lavellan let out an irritated huff of air in response. “I am not some delicate maiden who must be protected from impure words. It was of no concern to me.” 

“Even still, it must be different from what you are accustomed to from the Dalish. I know they do not talk of such matters recreationally, and casual dalliances are discouraged.” 

“Discouraged, certainly. But not unheard of.” Lavellan clarified. 

“And was it that way with you?” Solas inquired. 

“I was the first to the Keeper,” she replied with a sigh. “So I had many eyes on me at all times. It was not something I found time to indulge in. And it would have had to been someone my clan elders approved of, and the appropriate rituals to go thorough...there was never time before all of this." She made a hand gesture, trying to express the process behind it. “Was it just another practice we misinterpreted from the ancient elves?” Lavellan asked quietly, seeing the severe look that crossed his face. 

“ _Many_ things were different from what the Dalish practice,” Solas replied evenly. “Courtship rituals are the very least of it.” 

Lavellan sighed, withdrawing her hand from his to draw her knees up to rest her chin on them. His words needled her, as they always did when he spoke of all her people so dismissively. 

“Vhenan,” he said softly, his voice softer, apologetic. “I spoke carelessly. Come back to me.” His hand beckoned her, and she was unable to resist the lure of him; she knew he was not being deliberately malicious. Spending so much time traveling the fade and debating with spirits was worlds different from talking with flesh and blood people with real world experiences. 

She let him pull her into an embrace, her back resting against his chest. His hands clasped idly around her waist while they sat in companionable silence, looking at the constellations. She let her mind drift, enjoying the solid presence of the elf behind her and taking comfort in what he offered. 

The silence was broken when Lavellan let out a sound that was halfway between a snort and a laugh. She didn’t even have to look behind her to see the raised eyebrow Solas was no doubt aiming in her direction. 

“Something on your mind, Lethallan?” 

“I was just thinking about Iron Bull’s ridiculous tale from earlier. Melons. He’s so full of it.” 

Solas chuckled, sending a rush of hair behind her that tickled the back of her neck. “He is indeed full of it, as you say. But the act of pleasure he described is possible, I assure you.” 

Lavellan made a dismissive sound. “I find that difficult to believe. Maybe it's different for humans. They have more melon-like bosoms.” She glanced down at her own breasts as if comparing. 

“On the contrary, ma’vhenan. The size of the breasts matter little when it comes to such matters.” His voice lowered an octave, dark and dangerous and the hands clasped in front of her so chastely suddenly seemed a thousand times warmer. “I could demonstrate for you, if you were so inclined.” 

Oh, Creators. Liquid heat started coiling in the pit of her belly at the tone in his voice. Her mouth opened and closed a few times while her brain processed his words. 

“O-oh?” She hated the hitch in her words, and how shrill she suddenly sounded. Their flirtations had always had an element of suggestiveness but he’d never propositioned her so blatantly before, and she was unprepared with a witty response when her mind helpfully supplied images that made speaking a difficult process. Well, why not? She was no longer with her clan and it seemed silly to keep waiting when they were up against a mad, self proclaimed god that threatened all of existence in Thedas. 

“I would be happy to show you. For academic purposes, of course.” She twisted to look up at him and the teasing smirk plastering his face. When he saw her dumbstruck face his expression faltered, as if he was only now just realizing what he had suggested. “My apologies, perhaps it would be inappropriate given our earlier conversation. I would not-“

“Okay,” she breathed in a sudden rush of air, cutting him off. “I want you. I mean, to do that. Or try.” She was babbling and she knew it but her mouth wouldn’t stop talking. 

“Are you certain?” His eyebrow was raised in the most infuriating way. 

“I would be interested in experiencing it. For…academic purposes, of course.” She echoed his earlier words, smiling to hide her nervousness. “But I didn’t have any of the wine. Should I go back and get it?”

“The liqueur is unnecessary. It will simply require technique to bring about the desired effect.” Solas was looking at her with pure amusement, but there was a hunger that now glittered behind his steely eyes that made her swallow hard. “Thankfully, I am well versed in such a technique.” 

That made her pause for a moment. Solas was still very much an unknown for her despite him opening up to the idea of their relationship. There were hungry kisses, sweet words and lingering touches but so far neither of them had broken the barrier to do anything further than that. She thought perhaps he was just inexperienced with all his time spent dreaming in the fade; but clearly this was not the case. The elf in front of her was confident and very self assured with his…technique as he said. 

“So do I get naked? Should I lie down?” She was beginning to feel her nerves flare up again, a jittery edginess that made it hard to look at him directly. Solas cupped her face, forcing her to look up at him. His gaze was warm and affectionate and her eyes followed the tip of tongue that darted out to wet his lips. 

“Just _relax_ , emma lath. And if anything becomes too much, simply tell me and I will stop.” She nodded, and he let his head dip down to press a hot, searing kiss to her lips that curled her toes. When they parted, his hands turned her back around so she was sitting in his lap again, facing away from him. His hands glided down her sides, reaching for the buckles that fastened her belts, and she took a deep, shuddery breath. This was actually happening. She was going to let a man touch her breasts to make her cum and she wasn’t even bonded. It was behavior most improper for a First and she was shocked at the pleased tingle the thought sent down her spine. 

Her belt was undone and cast to the side and he began working on the clasps of her leather armor, working slowly and taking his time unwrapping the fabric like she was a fantastic present before him. The cool night air met her bare skin as her jacket and tunic were drawn aside, leaving her clad only in a simple cotton shift that covered her torso. The fabric was thin and it was not merely the chill that made her nipples harden underneath. She expected him to draw it up over her like the rest of her clothing but he reached up to caress her through the fabric instead. 

His hands cupped her, hefting each breast with his palms to feel the weight of them. They were certainly much smaller than the melons Iron Bull had talked of, but she could still feel her body respond to his gentle exploration of her regardless. And the size didn't seem to bother him one bit; he touched her reverently, whispering words in Elvish she could not begin to translate. He deliberately avoided touching her nipples directly; the rough cotton of her shift instead creating a light and maddening friction that was delicious and not enough at the same time, as it scratched and teased the peaks until they were aching. 

Creators, he was really good at this. She never thought herself to have particularly sensitive breasts, but it didn’t stop the warm tendrils of arousal that pulsed in her belly as he lovingly rolled the flesh in his rough, staff-calloused hands. She squirmed in his lap, letting her head fall back on his chest so she could look up at him.

“This is...are you trying to torture me, Solas?” she breathed. 

“The path to true pleasure often blurs the line with pain.” His chuckle was smug, his breath warm on the back of her neck and making her skin tingle. “But you should prepare yourself, for we have scarcely begun.” 

When his fingers finally brushed lightly over a nipple she gasped; her smalls _flooding_ with a sudden gush of wetness at the contact. He touched them again, this time firmly brushing his thumbs over the peaks and back, repeating the motion over and over until her breathing was shuddery and ragged. Her hands wandered down in between her clenched thighs to try and relieve the pressure there, but he gently pulled her hands away, trapping them behind her. A childish whine escaped her before she could stop it. 

“That will be unnecessary, Lethallan.” He traced the shape of her ear with his teeth, biting gently into the tip until her hands stilled once more. “Trust me,” he whispered. Lavellan groaned, turning herself in his lap to face him directly. 

She watched the way his eyes flickered over her and the way his jaw clenched as he took in her dilated eyes and barely clothed form, bathed in the pale moonlight. Finally he tugged the last piece of clothing over her head, discarding it with the others. She panted, bare under his gaze and drank in the hungry way he stared at her. She lived for that look in his eyes; that wavering of his perfect and calculated control where his love for her showed so clear it made her chest want to burst from her feelings for him. 

After a moment, he lowered her onto her back into the grass while his hands began their explorations again. The feel of his hands on her now bare skin left burning trails on her as he toyed with her expertly, keeping his body some distance from hers so that she had nothing to rut against. She could have laid there all night letting him touch her breasts, his long fingers teasing her to the edge of madness and back as soft sounds of encouragement spilled from her mouth. The look on his face was one of concentration; a look she’d seen many times as he poured over tome or was studying some artifact in his study. The only difference was now she could see the pink tips of his ears and the obvious bulge in his breeches that betrayed his own reaction to her. She imagined feeling that part of him inside her and let out a small moan at the thought. 

“How are you doing, ma’vhenan?” His voice was soft and gentle, but she could see the way his chest rose and fell with labored breaths as hers did. 

“Not quite there yet, hahren,” she challenged with a teasing smile. Her legs hooked around his waist and tried to drag him closer to her. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather cheat and use another part of you instead?” 

“You are very tempting,” Solas said with a dark chuckle, untangling her legs from his backside. “But this evening is for you, not for me. That will have to wait for another time, my heart.”

Her protests were silenced when he leaned down to press his mouth to her chest; gently kissing up and down the soft curve of her breast before fastening his lips over her over-sensitive nipple and sucking hard. Her choked cry could probably have been heard back at camp; her hands scrabbled over the smooth surface of his scalp as his other hand ungently plucked at her other nipple. Teeth grazed the peaks while his tongue dragged circles around her areola before he bit her, gently at first and then harder, sending a jolt of heat directly to her core that left her whimpering and incoherent. 

_"Don't stop,"_ she pleaded in elvish. 

The area between her legs was now a sticky mess; her cunt _throbbing_ from the sensations he tore from her body, his lips and teeth and tongue working her breasts and strumming her like a fine instrument he was born to play. His name spilled from her lips, over and over as he alternated between both breasts and ravished them with his mouth, suckling and biting and tasting her like a feast spread before him. Sometimes his teeth would tease and pull her peaks until she couldn't stand it, and then he would pull away, letting only his breath ghosting over her flesh to torment her until she made a sound to beg him for more. 

Pure, liquid heat began to trickle through her veins, emanating from the dark, swollen nipples that rolled between her elven lover's tongue. Sensing the rigid way she was holding her body, Solas lifted his face to look at her, thumbs rubbing gentle but firm circles around her hardened nubs, wet from his saliva. He repeated this motion, dragging his fingers through nerve endings that were screaming from over stimulation. It was too much; painful almost, but it was so wonderful she never wanted it to end.

Her head was thrown back and her eyes fluttered behind closed eyelids as she squeezed her thighs together, the tension in her body finally snapping when he pressed both her breasts together and slid his tongue across both nipples at once. 

Her cry pierced the night as she came, ripping out handfuls of grass as the the sensation was powerful enough to leave her trembling and shaking in his grasp. Hot, liquid pleasure wracked her body in spasms unlike any orgasm she'd experienced before. This one burned and ached exquisitely, her nipples beacons of fire while her legs and hips twitched in unexpected pleasure. Solas’ tongue continued its path; drawing out each agonizing second of her release until the heat dissipated through her boneless limbs.

Solas lifted his head from her chest to hover over her, his arms coming down beside her head to look her in the eyes. His smile was unbearably, infuriatingly smug, and she pulled him down to her lips in a fierce kiss in retaliation, gripping him behind his pointed ears. When her thundering heart settled down enough she gazed at him with sated, heavy lidded eyes. 

“Solas, that was…thank you.” 

“You hardly need to thank me,” he chuckled, brushing his lips lazily over her skin. “Touching you is no burden and I must admit I enjoy it for my own benefits as well.” 

“Another enjoyable side benefit for you, then?” 

“You seem to be quite adept at providing them, vhenan.” He kissed her mouth again, soft and gentle, and she could feel that polite mask he wore starting to creep back up. “Come, we should get you dressed and return to camp.” She stopped his movements with a hand on his arm. 

“We won’t be missed for a while yet. Will you stay with me for a bit longer, Solas?” Her eyes searched his, pleading while her hand beckoned him back to her. He looked as if he were about to protest, but something in her expression seemed to change his mind as he inclined his head to the side in an almost imperceptible nod. 

“Ma nuvenin, ma sa’lath.” He whispered, gathering in her arms and shielding her from the cold.


End file.
